


getting peckish

by superstringtheory



Series: hungry heart [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Belly Kink, F/M, Feeding Kink, Making Out, Stuffing, Teasing, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: Betty invites Jughead for Thanksgiving dinner. Alice Cooper has words, and Jughead sees this as an excellent opportunity to tease Betty. Veronica swoops in to save the day.





	getting peckish

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to youwilllovemylaugh for the quick beta read and mutual sharing of photos where Cole Sprouse's tummy might look slightly present and to whowaswillbe for the help with the titular wordplay and encouragement! <3 <3

“You sure you still want to come?” Betty wraps a shoelace around her finger, then lets go when her fingertip throbs from lack of circulation. She’s sitting on the floor, back propped up against the wall, playing with the Converse sneakers set neatly by her bedroom door. 

 

Jughead’s voice is warm in her ear, like he’s right there next to her. “Don’t worry, Betty. I’m not afraid of your mom.” 

 

“Well, that’ll make one of us,” Betty says. 

 

***

 

In regards to the grand scheme of life in Riverdale lately, bringing your boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner isn’t really a big deal. Even when said boyfriend might be a Southside Serpent, and your mom’s got an evil eye turned in his direction at all times. Complicating matters, though, is the fact of your recently consummated feedist relationship and the fact that Thanksgiving is, well, kind of the epitome of feedist holidays. 

 

Betty’s already picked her cuticles to ribbons and it’s not even ten a.m. Her phone buzzes. 

 

**Veronica Lodge:** _do you still want me to stop by later?_

 

**Betty Cooper:** _PLEASE. My mom is already going at it_

 

Even with the promise of Veronica “dropping in” later in order to give Betty a distraction, Betty can feel her nerves fraying. Her mother had woken her up without ceremony at seven a.m. by opening her bedroom door and turning on the light. 

 

“If you want guests at dinner, Betty, then you’ll have to help me prepare it. What do I look like, a housemaid?” There are a lot of things Betty’s mother looks like and many of them often flit on the tip of Betty’s tongue, but so far none have made their way into the audible world. 

 

Betty’s just begged off a break to put on her face-- at least this, her mother can’t begrudge her; Cooper women wear minimalist makeup like mithril, hard to detect when there, but certainly necessary-- and she relishes the time to herself in front of the mirror, texting Veronica back and even allowing herself a few tiny fantasies about Jughead. 

 

Specifically, involving Jughead and copious amounts of turkey and pie. 

 

At this, her phone buzzes again, and she doesn’t pick it up right away since she’s applying mascara, figuring it’s still just Veronica. Then it buzzes again in quick succession and she puts down the wand and looks at the screen. 

 

**Jughead Jones:** _can I come over yet? I’m getting peckish_

 

**Jughead Jones:** _ ;)  _

 

Betty bites her lower lip.

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ you can head over. But remember, Jug, my mom is out for us so we have to keep… this… on the DL _

 

She considers the next message for a moment before pressing send. 

  
**Betty Cooper:** _ … but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease me a little  _

 

**Betty Cooper:** _;)_

 

***

 

Apparently, Jughead’s personal definition of “a little” is a lot more than Betty expected. After watching him shove three mini cheesecake squares into his mouth in rapid succession (and this also after a plate of savory hors d’oeuvres had disappeared the same way), she squeezes his knee so hard her nails bite into his skin, even through his pants. 

 

“Ow, Betts,” Jughead says casually, swallowing. “You doing okay there?” 

 

“Jug…” Betty starts, but she can’t very well get into this in front of Polly and her dad. She starts over. “I mean, don’t you want to save some room for the main meal?” 

 

“Sure,” Jughead says just as easily. “I’m just warming my stomach up.” 

 

God. Betty takes a quick gulp from her nearby soda can, sure her cheeks are flaming. 

 

“You okay, Betty?” Polly is looking at her too, leaning over as much as she can over her pregnant belly. 

 

Betty pastes a smile on her face. “Great, Polly. Just swallowed funny.” She keeps the grin on as she stands up. “I think I’ll go check and see how Mom’s doing in the kitchen.” 

 

She almost bumps into Alice Cooper in the hallway. 

 

“Trying to escape so soon?” 

 

Betty squares her shoulders. “No, Mom, just coming to see if you needed any help in the kitchen.” 

 

Alice raises an eyebrow. “Sure.” 

 

Betty sighs. “Can I just go and tell everyone to come in for the meal?” 

 

A sudden smile breaks out on Alice’s face. “Please do, Betty. I can’t wait to see your boyfriend’s Southside table manners.” 

 

Betty’s proud of herself for not saying anything, but when Jughead takes her hand for a quick squeeze as she leads him to the dining room, she has to pull it away so he doesn’t see the marks where her nails have been digging into her palms. Some things, like how they look without makeup, Cooper women keep to themselves. 

 

***

 

Betty’s resolve is tested almost immediately after the pre-meal thanks and prayers. 

 

She watches closely as Jughead piles his plate high with some of everything. “Looks excellent, Mrs. Cooper,” he says. 

 

“Alice,” Betty says firmly, unable to hold her tongue. “You don’t have to keep calling her ‘Mrs. Cooper.’” She widens her eyes as if this is ridiculous. “We’ve been dating for months. You can call her Alice.” 

 

“Betty--” Alice Cooper’s eyes are flinty. “I, for one, think it’s commendable that Jughead is able to keep clear boundaries and address his superiors as such.”

 

“ _ Superiors _ ? Seriously, Mom?” 

 

“Betty--” Jughead’s hand tightens on her wrist. He leans his head close to hers. “It’s not worth it right now. It’s okay.” 

 

Betty tugs her hand away. It’s not something she wants to ignore and it’s not okay, the way her mother treats Jughead like he’s some kind of second class citizen, a bit of scum on her investigative gumshoe. 

 

“Fine,” she mutters under her breath, and vehemently pokes her fork into her mashed potatoes. 

 

Jughead leans in again, his breath tickling the inside of her ear. “Relax, Betts. You’ve got a front row ticket to the show, remember?” 

 

Betty takes a deep breath. “Still?” she whispers, and Jughead winks before turning back to his own plate. 

 

Jesus. If Betty’s mother doesn’t kill her before dessert, sexual frustration just might. 

 

***

 

Jughead had first brought up the idea of Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, after the whole diner thing. 

 

“You know,” he’d said, slyly, his arm snaking around Betty’s waist with determination, “Thanksgiving is coming up.” 

 

“And?” Betty hadn’t been exactly sure where he was going with this, but she wanted to see how it’d play out. 

 

“And so I’d like to see just how much turkey I can eat.” His teeth had nipped at her ear. “Wouldn’t you?” 

 

And so here they are. Betty had finagled a long-suffering invitation to Thanksgiving for Jughead from her mother, and now Jughead is sitting next to her and asking Polly to “please pass the stuffing,” and Betty might die. 

 

It’s her own bed and she’s certainly made it -- she’s lying in it, trapped under the covers -- but does she even want to get out of it? 

 

“Thanks,” she hears Jughead say, and watches as he serves himself a generous second portion of stuffing, which also might be the most lasciviously-monikered food she’d ever come in contact with. And then Jughead’s placing more turkey on his plate and sidebarring it with cranberries and mashed potatoes. Then he’s drenching it all in gravy and even when Betty takes a bite of her own meal, all she can taste is the blood from her bitten lip. 

 

*** 

 

She can hardly look at him as he starts on his third helping, only turning her head when he excuses himself to go to the restroom. She re-engages herself in light conversation with Polly, sitting on her other side, but gets distracted when Jughead comes back, edging himself back into his seat sideways -- deliberately, she’s sure -- and placing a little kiss on the top of her head. 

 

“I unbuttoned my pants,” Jughead whispers under his breath, and Betty jumps a little as he resettles himself next to her. She thinks she hears the chair creak a little, or maybe it’s her imagination. 

 

Betty can hear Jughead breathing next to her by the time Mrs. Cooper brings out the pies: pumpkin and pecan. She sneaks a sideways glance at him and recognizes the look of satiation on his face. 

 

Jughead catches her looking and mouths the two words that’ll probably be engraved on her tombstone: “ _ So. Full. _ ” 

 

Regardless, he motors through a slice of each type of pie and then a second one of pecan. During this pecan reprisal, Betty chews on her own fork and can’t stop herself from what probably amounts to open staring as Jughead works his way through the slice, her breath catching a little as he stops midway through, sets his fork down, and then reapplies himself. 

 

He hiccups once after he’s finished, patting his stomach like a nervous pet that needs to be soothed. 

 

“Delicious, Mrs. Cooper,” Jughead says. “Thank you again for having me.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” Alice says, and Betty jumps in before she can lose her nerve. Her throbbing clit has taken the steering wheel and unlike Jesus doing so, it’s not really a reassurance. 

 

“Mom?” Betty says, her voice high-pitched. “I just remembered a newspaper assignment that’s due after the holiday break. I need to go show Jughead a few things about it in my room.” 

 

Alice’s brows remain raised, but perhaps the several glasses of wine she’d consumed have tamed her a bit, because she merely shrugs a shoulder, and Betty almost trips in her hustle to get Jughead into her room. 

 

He’s slow-moving, though, and for that she can’t even fault him, because he looks so beautiful like this. He’s always beautiful, but for Betty there’s something particularly special about Jughead full to the gills -- the lazy way his smiles play around his lips, or the languid way he’ll submit beneath her, blinking up at her while she moves her hips. 

 

*** 

 

“Oof.” In her bedroom, Jughead moans a little as he sits heavily on the edge of Betty's bed, unabashedly cradling his belly. 

 

He's tugging his zipper down a little, then letting gravity and his insistently full gut do the rest as Betty almost bites through her lower lip scrambling to shut the door. 

 

He looks up at her with heavily lidded eyes. “Do you know how full I am, Betty?” He doesn't wait for her response. “Do you want to feel?”

 

He's not usually so forward, but her hand is already caught in his and he's pulling it to touch the rounded curve of his stomach. “Feel,” he repeats, and so Betty does. 

 

She lets her fingers find the limits and parabolas of him, and she presses and prods when he makes small noises of contentment, until she presses too hard and he gulps a quick hiccup and then a rumbling belch. 

 

“Pardon,” he says, ever the gentleman, but his eyes are twinkling. 

 

Betty swings a leg over his lap before she can second guess herself. Jughead lets out another little “oof,” but when she peeks, he’s smiling, his eyes shut. 

 

“You ate a lot, huh?” Betty says, not looking for a response. 

 

She runs her hand down his side, the little love handles that’ve been spilling over his waistbands for weeks now. “It shows,” she says, and Jughead just makes a little moaning noise. 

 

“You like it,” he says next, swallowing down a hiccup. She pats his belly as it jumps, and thinks about how much she wants all of his weight on top of her. 

 

“I do,” Betty says, then looks at him consideringly. “You know, Jug, your chin’s starting to get a twin. And there’s a real gut here.” She grabs a little handful of his stomach and shakes it gently. There’s a lot more to shake than there’d been just a few months ago. 

 

“Easy,” Jughead says, stifling a burp in the back of his throat. “The merchandise is still  _ very _ full.” But he lets her grab his gut again, and directs her hands to rub at the places where he feels sore and aching from indulgence. 

 

Betty’s just about to move her hands a little lower, already skimming just beneath the tight waistband of Jughead’s boxers, but then Veronica bursts into Betty’s bedroom like a perfectly-coiffed tornado. Her expertly arched brows don’t even move as she looks at Betty with her hands in the air guiltily even as she’s straddling Jughead, his suspenders down and his swollen gut spilling out the undone zipper of his jeans. 

 

“Um,” Betty starts. “Jughead, um. Ate too much.” 

 

“I see.” Veronica’s face still doesn’t change expression. “But your mom’s on her way, B, so if I were you, no matter what kind of kinkiness is going down, I’d get my gangbanger boyfriend dressed and decent before she gets here.” She glances at Jughead. “No offense.” 

 

Jughead’s working on sitting up, one hand on the crest of his belly. He looks spent, tousled and glutted, exactly the way Betty would keep him always if she could. “None taken,” he says after a long pause to emit a belch. “Sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be,” Betty says quickly. “Just get your pants zipped.” 

 

“Easier said than done,” Jughead pants, a little out of breath, as he struggles to pull the two sides of his pants together and get the button to fasten. 

 

“Are you sucking in?” Veronica asks, stepping closer, and Betty goes red. 

 

“Yup,” Jughead says, and Veronica’s eyes widen a little. 

 

“Damn, boy, you did eat a lot.” She looks almost appreciative, and Betty will have to think about that later, but right now, there’s no time. 

 

“C’mon, Juggy,” she says, tugging his arms out of his flannel and tying it around his waist, right over where the pants won’t close. “Now both of you, just come-- sit.” She hops onto the bed and quickly arranges Jughead and Veronica around her. It probably looks as unnatural as it feels, but at least they’re all fully dressed. 

 

Alice Cooper surveys them from the doorway, hawklike. Her gaze makes Betty feel like a paper doll of a person, but she resolutely straightens her back and looks as casual as she can. 

 

“I don’t know what’s going on in here, but it’s over,” Mrs. Cooper says. “Jughead and Veronica-- out. Go spend Thanksgiving evening with your own families--  _ if  _ they’ll have you, that is.” 

 

***

 

Jughead and Veronica are gone minutes later, and then Betty’s left downstairs and helping her mother with dishes. 

 

“Betty.” Alice Cooper’s gaze is unyielding. “I hope you know your little Southside Serpent boytoy is getting a little chunky. He ate like a starving wolf today, did you see? I know you did, you had to. Everyone could see it. Honestly, he ate more than Polly, and she’s eating for three!” 

 

“It’s Thanksgiving, Mom. People eat a lot.” Betty’s proud that her voice doesn’t crack or crumble, even though her mother’s staring her down like she’s an eighteen-wheeler and Betty’s a doe-eyed fawn. 

 

“That was more than a lot. That was a spectacle, Elizabeth.” 

 

How disgusting is it, exactly, Betty wonders in some far-off part of herself, to replay words your mother said while you’re masturbating about just how much your boyfriend over-ate on Thanksgiving? 

 

“I guess he was hungry,” Betty says lamely, and her mother just stops the motion of her sponge on a plate. 

 

“I guess,” she repeats, and Betty has the more than slightly horrifying notion that her mother sees something in her, that her mother can look at Betty as if in a mirror. 

 

*** 

 

After the dishes are done, Betty goes back up to her room and lays down on top of her comforter. With her eyes shut, she can almost feel Jughead’s weight on top of her, hear the little puffed breaths he makes when he’s too full and she makes him exert himself. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ happy thanksgiving, Jug _

 

**Jughead Jones:** _you have any leftovers?_

  
**Jughead Jones:** _ ;) _


End file.
